


800 Million

by StarTravel



Series: Defiance Through Tenderness [35]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But also, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Healthy Coping Mechanisms, Post-Canon Cardassia, Post-Canon Fix-It, Rebuilding, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, cuddles and snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 01:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17909696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: The war ends and Julian tries to heal while Garak tries to rebuild Cardassia. Both try to get the other to rest.





	800 Million

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Aidaran for Beta'ing!

 It’s funny, a few days ago Julian thought he’d be the one in need of comfort at the end of the war, invisible rivers of blood and neural matter dripping off of each of his fingertips. Then the Dominion starts bombing Cardassia, city after city brought down to nothing but ash and rubble. 800 million and counting. That’s what been taken from Elim, what’s awaiting them when they reach Cardassian soil. Suddenly the crimes chewing vigorously at the edge of Julian’s soul don’t matter at all. Not compared to what Elim needs now.

 Julian swallows tightly as he watches his lover pace across the briefing room, hands gripping the sides of the padd more and more tightly as each new name flits across the screen. They’re slowing down now, though it’s not much solace in the face of how many names are already there. Julian takes a few careful steps toward Elim, reaching a hand out carefully so that his fingers brush against the crook of his elbow. Elim tears himself away from Julian like his touch had burned. Right, too soon for that. Julian will have to try and comfort Elim with words. “Listen, I know that this must seem bleak - “

 “Some may say that we've gotten just what we deserved. After all, we're not entirely innocent, are we?” Elim cuts him off, voice clipped and regret, each word spat out as if they’re acid in his throat. The last time Julian heard him like this was when the wire was setting fire to the neurons in his brain. “And I'm not just speaking of the Bajoran occupation. No, our whole history is one of arrogant aggression. We've collaborated with the Dominion, betrayed the entire Alpha Quadrant. Oh, no, no. There's no doubt about it. We're guilty as charged.”

 “You and I both know that the Cardassians are a strong people. They'll survive. Cardassia will survive.” Julian assures him in a tight voice, not able to keep the flood of emotion out of his voice. Guilt, because a small, monstrous part of him can’t help agreeing with Elim. They are guilty and they deserve to face their crimes. But not like this, not with more senseless loss of lives, the death toll taking the guilty and innocent alike with no interest in justice. No one could deserve the atrocities they’ve suffered over the past few days, least of all Elim.

 Julian squeezes his shoulder this time, letting his hand rest on the edge of Elim’s neck for a few seconds, scratching gently over the scales peeking out of the top of his collar. He doesn’t pull back until Elim’s breathing evens out.

 Elim practically hisses at Julian when he turns around to gaze at him, though the illusion of rage doesn’t even last half a second. There are so many emotions Julian can’t even begin to unravel them. Julian lets his training take over instead, focusing on the torment in Elim’s gaze. “Please, Doctor. Spare me your insufferable Federation optimism. Of course it will survive, but as not the Cardassia I knew. We had a rich and ancient culture. Our literature, music, art were second to none. And now, so much of it is lost. So many of our best people, our most gifted minds.”

 Elim’s voice is tortured, a sheen to his gaze but no tears cascading from his gaze. Not yet. Julian knows that will come later, when they’re alone and he can hold Elim against his chest and let him mourn for memories and loved ones lost, for friends Elim will never greet again. For a mother Julian has never met but knows Elim loved with the same misplaced ferocity he had for his father. “I'm sorry, Elim. I didn't mean -”

 Elim cuts him off with a bright smile this time that reaches nowhere near his eyes. Julian’s almost insulted by it. Elim gives his shoulder a perfunctory pat, hand barely touching him before he pulls it away. His voice comes out at once pleasant and just a touch regretful, as though there is too much emotion for even him to hide them right now. “Oh, it's quite alright, Doctor. You've been such a good friend. I'm going to miss our lunches together.”

 “Is lunch not a concept on Cardassia?” Julian asks playfully but also with a steel to his voice, hand coming to rest more fully on Elim’s shoulder this time. A few months ago, those words would have felt like Garak punched him in the stomach. Now Julian understands better, knows why Elim tries to hold him at arm’s length. But he is a Starfleet Officer. He is not fragile and he will not abandon the man he loves when he needs him most.

 Elim doesn’t push his hand away this time, but he doesn’t give at all either. His voice grows harsher, the heat in his gaze growing stronger. It’s almost sweet, to see Elim put so much passion into pushing him away. “Things have changed, Doctor. You can’t really be thinking of coming with me now.”

 “Please, Elim. I’m thinking of coming with you more now than I was before.” Julian’s voice is steady as he slides his other hand to Elim’s other shoulder, letting his hands rest along the strong lines of his neck. Before he simply meant to go to Cardassia because Elim would go nowhere else. But now Cardassia itself needs him as much as his lover, air filled with smoke and poison that will render the next generation defenseless too unless Cardassia has as much medical aid as they do duty-bound men trying to rebuild cities from the ground up. Julian can’t abandon people in need.

 “It won’t be safe.” Elim mutters in a far weaker voice from before, as though even he knows how little difference those words will make to Julian. Safety has always been a distant thing for him, and it’s only become more so in the years since the war. He may no longer dream of glory in the same way, but nor has he started to dream of contentment either.  

 Julian can’t help laughing at that, short and far too loud, the sound reverberating across the briefing room. Elim’s eye ridge dart towards his forehead, concern heavy in the twist of his lips as he grips Julian’s shoulder tighter than before. Elim holds him in place, as though he can’t decide whether to pull him closer or push him away out of some ridiculous sense of protection.  “Elim, I’ve spent the last three years as a war time doctor and been kidnapped three separate times, including a month in a Dominion prison. Safety hasn’t been a concern of mine in some time.”

 “There will be three months of the year where it will be too hot for you to go outside, even with your enhancements.” Elim murmurs softly as his right hand coming up to cup his jaw, thumb brushing against the edge of his lip. There’s something almost apologetic to his gaze that makes affection surge through Julian’s chest.

 Julian grins a little, crooked and soft as he fills his own eyes start to fill with tears as though to match Elim’s. The moment is strange, grief and love filling his heart with equal measure. There can be no ignoring the suffering Elim is going through and will go through, the loss that defines his every action from here on out. But there’s also a hopefulness to this moment alone, a sense of permanence to them that’s never been there before. “Lovely, think about how much research I’ll get done.”

 Elim swallows tightly, blinking a few times and then closing his eyes entirely. Julian pulls him closer, one hand sliding down to wrap tightly around his waist. “Julian -“

 “Look, I’m going to Cardassia. It can either be as yours or as a Federation relief doctor. That’s up to you.” Julian murmurs into his neck softly, more of a promise than any proposal ever could be for them. Elim runs a hand through his hair as few times, breath cold against his skin as he presses his head against Julian’s shoulder.

 Julian feels something wet hit his shoulder and wonders if he can simply have Miles send all his things down.

* * *

 Garak, possibly unfairly, keeps waiting for Julian to realize that he’s made a mistake and run back to comforts and familiarity of the Federation. After all, even before the Dominion’s massacre, Cardassia had been a hard place unsuited to a man as soft and wide-eyed as the doctor still managed to be, even if his ideals had a few more shades of grey than they did at the start. Julian is a good man and he has no place here. Certainly not one with Garak.

 But Julian stays by his side, working alongside the Cardassian doctors by day and curling in his arms at night. A balance starts, taking turns with meals and reading out loud to each other, all of it disgustingly domestic in a way that makes Elim’s chest warm. Still, it’s not until Julian gives up on his ridiculous uniform for something called skants and the slim, silky outfits Garak made him back on Deep Space 9 that he starts to trust that Julian will not leave. He’s quite relieved to find out he’s underestimated his lover once again.

 Really, the only downside is that Julian has this utterly ridiculous idea that Garak needs to relax lodged in his brain.

 “You need to rest, Elim. You’ve been on your feet for hours.” Julian tells him as if on cue when Garak tries to add a few more details to their plans for the city center, where currently nothing sits except a few safe houses and the makeshift hospital Julian and the other doctors in Sector 9 built. Soon there will be a school and a marketplace as well. Garak hopes to repair the courtyard along the city center to something close to its former glory, sheening white and black pillars rising from the deep red sands below and surrounding the fountain as though to protect the oasis from interlopers. Currently, they’re all in tiny pieces scattered across the ground like children’s blocks.

 Julian pushes at his shoulder again, mouth almost a pout as he glances between Garak and their couch pointedly. Garak lets out a low sigh and takes a few steps from the doorway until he’s closer to the couch. Next to him, Julian looks unreasonably smug, smile so bright it lights the room better than the weak ones the Federation has provided them. Garak raises an eye ridge, taking in the light circles under his lover’s eyes and the narrowness of his shoulders. “So have you.”

 “Fine, I’ll sit down too.” Julian concedes with a bit of a sigh, setting his own padd to the side. Julian takes a few steps back until he’s perched on the edge of the couch, hands reaching out towards Garak’s waist. “There, happy?”

“As happy as I can be, given the circumstances.” Garak murmurs in a low voice, letting out a breath he’s been holding in for God knows how long. Julian pushes lightly against his lower back until Garak shifts against the slightly worn material of the couch. The navy has started to take on a grey tinge in the past few months that it never had in Julian’s quarters. Still the furniture, the Federation controlled heating - mostly for Julian’s sake - and their half-kitchen and small bedroom are more than what most Cardassians in Sector 9 had. Garak sighs, half in relief and half in self-recrimination as he feels Julian’s hands start sliding down his back. “Do you think it’s right, for me to enjoy the luxury of you when no one else on Cardassia has anything remotely similar?”

 “Hmm, well I suppose you could share me with a few of our neighbors.” Julian’s voice is light and airy as his hands work on a particularly rough knot of scales at the base of Garak’s spine. Garak lets out a low groan as he rolls his eyes affectionately, leaning into Julian’s touch. They both know that’s not what he means, but he has to admit to himself that Julian is a luxury as well, beautiful and bright-eyed, long limbs slender and taut and skin grown even more beautiful in the warmth of Cardassia’s suns.

 Garak has caught other Cardassians giving Julian careful once overs, gazes curious and lustful at the same time, as though he were some kind of oddity. Still, Garak knows better than to give Julian yet another boost to his at times almost overwhelming confidence, especially when he’s sure Julian’s already perfectly aware of the impression he makes. “Luckily for me, they prefer someone with a few more scales than you have, my dear.”

 “Then I just have to make sure no one tries to steal you away from me.” Julian’s voice comes out in a worried sigh as his hands start to move up Garak’s back, finding each scale with ease under his thin linen shirt. So far he suspects they’re Julian’s favorite thing about Cardassia, with the looks he gets every day when he comes home from work dusty and with his sleeves carefully rolled up on his forearms. Julian suddenly leans over and wraps himself around Garak’s back so he can look look in the eye, gaze warm and playful. “The brilliant, cunning hero of Cardassia and all that.”

 “An old lizard.” Garak corrects him with a quick shake of his head, closing his eyes as he leans forward again. Julian catches the message, nimble hands coming up to run across his shoulders again, touch a bit softer than it had been on the muscles of his lower back. Garak lets out a low exhale, shoulders slumping slightly as Julian’s hands come to run along the scales there as well. “Just a tired old lizard with loose scales and -”

 “Quiet you, there. Does your back feel better?” Julian kneads his shoulders one last time, nails scratching lightly along the scales on the back of his neck. Garak makes a small, delighted hissing noise of acquiescence. Julian lets go of his back, twisting around so he can slide to his feet, grinning so smugly one would think he’d just found a new cure or type of gene. Julian tilts his head to the right, biting one lip as his gaze darts to their tiny kitchen. “Good, now I’ll get our dinner.”

 Garak feels some of the tension come back into his shoulders as he gives Julian’s frame a quick look. He can’t be sure, what with the skant having so many less infernal layers than his jumpsuit, but he swears there’s somehow even less of Julian than there was on Deep Space Nine. Soon Garak fears he’ll be dating someone who disappears when he turns sideways. “Are you going to give me half of yours and pretend you’re not doing that?”

 “You need your strength.” Julian answers without answering as he fills one plate until it’s almost overflowing, rich flavors and colors almost decadent against the white and grey walls of their new home. Julian brings the plates over and sits on the couch so they’re knee to knee while they eat. Every so often Garak tries to subtly push some of his food back onto Julian’s plate, earning him playfully annoyed looks the occasional quick kiss.

 He thinks this could be contentment someday, when his garden is filled with flowers instead of ash.

* * *

Julian sits cross legged on the floor by Elim’s feet, back pressed against the edge of their too-firm mattress as he checks the calculations on his padd again. He finds it easier to get work done here, in the small, safe space of their bedroom, bed taking up nearly the entire room. Julian had been worried about the space when they first moved in to their tiny, half Federation made, half Cardassian ruins of the home Elim grew up in as a child. They’re rebuilding that place too, piece by piece, but there are too many projects that must come first.

 But Elim’s shown no signs of his claustrophobia or panic attacks, no rigid posture or panicked breathing. Julian still checks everyday even though they’ve lived here for four months now, the strange wooden ruins and Federation sheening white metal feeling almost like a home.

 Julian grins up at where Elim reclines on their bed, several papers in his hand and a few padds on his side. They’ll be getting a shipment of more soon, along with replicators, but until then they have to preserve what resources they have for the most important and secure information. Julian smiles softly, glancing up at Elim as he holds up his padd so it brushes against the underside of the other man’s hands. “I think I’ve found a vaccine for the Telemons Cough epidemic in the Runar valley. I’m still working on a cure though.”

 “Should I take it that’s what you’re researching right now?” Elim asks as he raises one eye ridge, lips pursing together in mild disapproval. Julian’s supposed to be using his day off to recharge, classic novels and holofilms filling the rickety old bookcase on the other side of their bed. Instead he’s been using them for work he can’t do at the local hospital, skipping meals and sleep in favor of studying the effects of pollution in the Cardassian airways and the new diseases that seem to be cropping up as a result.

 At first, Elim hadn’t cared, the protectiveness of the Defiant replaced with a sense of pride mixed with urgency that Julian accomplish his goals, his bedraggled appearance hardly comparing to Cardassia’s own. After all, Julian will always be second to the wellbeing of Cardassia. But now that Julian’s managed to stabilize the most deadly of Cardassia’s new diseases, Elim’s turned some of his attention back to Julian’s health. Apparently losing 15 lbs and having dark circles under his eyes was nearly as much cause for concern as his cough. “Yes, darling. And what’s that you’re looking at? The plans for rebuilding the schools in Sector 9?”

 Elim glances down at him, the ridges along his brow tightening slightly. He smirks and shakes his head a little in what Julian takes as an admittance of defeat. After all, it _is_ supposed to be Elim’s day off too. “I am, they’re coming along quite nicely. We just have a few more foundational blocks to put down.”

 “Do you want me to come help on my next day off?” Julian murmurs as he moves in closer to Elim’s legs, letting his body press up against the other man’s sturdy thigh and calf. Julian presses his face against the ridges around Elim’s kneecap, bare skin rough and utterly lovely against his skin.

 Elim tuts and presses his knee against Julian’s face, though he doesn’t glance up from the building plans Julian knows he’s gone over at least 16.3 times in the past hour. His voice comes out chiding as he tugs slightly on Julian’s hair so that his head rests on Garak’s knee. “You’re supposed to be resting on your day off.”

 “So are you, and yet I’ve caught you sneaking out to work at least six different times. And that’s me catching you, Elim.” Julian points out as he rolls his shoulders, glancing up at his lover through his eyelashes. His knees are digging into the soft white rug Miles sent them, material plush and a sharp contrast to the feel of Garak’s leg, the mixture of textures against his bare skin making him purr. He’s still dressed from his shift this morning, but he’s had to eschew the jumpsuits of Deep Space Nine for a more classic uniform. Garak seems almost offended that Julian hid something as fashionable as the skant from him, running his hands down the uniform and insisting Julian never don one of those hideous jumpsuits again. As though he could in the heat of Cardassian winter.

 Elim looks offended for a different reason this time, lips twisting into a tight frown. Elim gives Julian’s hair another light tug, voice filled with mock-hurt. “Are you suggesting I’m getting rusty?”

 “I’m suggesting you’re getting tired and that you need to rest.” Julian answers in a clipped voice as he brings his arms up to grip either side of Elim’s thighs. He curls his legs up underneath him, shifting so his skant rides up slightly in the back. Julian gives him a beseeching look, gaze soft and just a touch concerned as he glances up at Elim. His ridges have been a dull grey for days, and that’s a far worse sign of exhaustion than the circles under Julian’s eyes. “Doctor’s orders.”

 “I’ve never trusted doctors.” Elim murmurs with a hint of a sigh, as though there’s nothing to be done for it. Julian snorts where he sits at his feet, glancing up at Garak’s cool hands loosely holding the padd. He knocks it out of the other man’s hand before he can even stop to think, borderline pouting as he glances up at Elim. Julian watches a familiar heat fill Elim’s gaze, lips curling as though in a challenge. Oh. Julian grins brightly, because this is just as good of a way to spend his day off as resting. Far more rewarding, if nothing else.  

 “Your lover’s orders then.” Julian corrects himself as he inches forward on the floor, sitting up a bit more fully than he was a few seconds ago. This, at least, is a game he knows how to play almost better than anyone, maybe even Elim. After all, his reflexes weren’t enhanced for nothing. He smirks a little, letting his gaze grow a touch hooded as he leans in so his his read rests more fully in Elim’s lap.

 Elim’s lips curl into a wide grin as he presses one hand against Julian’s cheek, brushing his thumb along Julian’s bottom lip. His voice drops half an octave, low and so smooth Julian feels a bit like he’s being wrapped in Risan silk sheets all over again. “Maybe you could give me some incentive for good behavior.”

 “I don’t know if I think you deserve that, but I suppose I must do what I can for Cardassia.” Julian tuts in a low voice, shaking his head as he tries to give Elim a disapproving look through his haze of lust. Julian rubs his head against Elim’s thigh and lets his hands wander further up, sliding from scaled skin to the slightly rough fabric of Elim’s shorts. Julian brushes his thumb over the head top button as he looks up at Elim with a playful grin, licking his lips a bit and wondering idly if he could undo the clasps with his mouth. He’s been practicing on Cardassian clothing for nearly two years now, and he’s gotten quite talented.

 “You’ve become a model citizen, my dear.” Elim assures him as his right hand slides through his hair, the left coming to press more urgently against his lips. Julian chuckles against his thumb as he moves in even closer than before. So much for using their afternoon off to rest.

* * *

 It’s been eight months since Garak’s exile ended and Cardassia is, if not thriving, surviving. There is good news every day from the other sectors, none of them quite so severely as Sector 9 but all still suffering a multitude of losses. Julian brings him good news as well, less and less terminal illnesses coming through his doors, relief for chronic illnesses slowly being found and Julian coming home with stories of babies with tiny ridges along their necks. There is new life rising in Cardassia, signs of a future in the formerly sterile hallways of the hospital and along the courtyard, small shops reopening and books and food being shared among the streets. There are even the sounds of children’s voices again, loud and joyous and finally free to be outside now that the air quality has been deemed safe enough for them.

 Julian already sits on their couch when he comes in, engrossed in his padd and drumming his fingers along the side. Garak watches him for a few seconds, the circles under his eyes less noticeable than they were a few months ago, movements more energetic. He’s still too thin, but Garak hopes that will change as more food starts to be grown and shared in the city. Julian glances up at him, smile soft and affection filling his gaze as his eyes flicker across Garak’s frame. “You’re smiling.”

 “I believe I’ve smiled in your presence before, my dear. In fact, I think I’ve smiled around you more than anyone else in my life.” Garak murmurs as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of his neck, hands coming to grip the side of the couch on either side of Julian’s shoulders. Julian glances up at him with a rueful smile, shaking his head back and forth and looking at Garak - Garak, of all people - like he’s the lucky one between the two of them.

 “I’m choosing to believe that, you old romantic.” Julian murmurs in a soft voice, leaning his head back against the couch cushion so he can look up into Garak’s eyes. Garak blinks a little when Julian suddenly slides his hand underneath Garak’s own on the arm of the couch. Julian entwines their fingers together, his other hand coming up to run along the side of jaw. Julian’s gaze is almost relieved, smiling widely so the skin around his eyes crinkles in that delightful way humans do. “But no, I mean, you’re genuinely happy. There’s no - well, not _none -_ but less pain behind your smile.”

 Garak can’t help smiling in return, pulling his free hand back so he can perch on the couch next to Julian. He swallows tightly, chest rising with an emotion Garak rarely allows himself to feel, one that’s both dangerous and precious. But today he can’t quite help it. “We finished the school today. It’s wonderful, Julian. Different than it was before, not as ornate. But it’s more alive now than it’s ever been.”

 “Thanks to you.” Julian answers in his soft Kardassi, gaze beaming as he moves in closer to him. Garak lets himself bask in the light for a few moments, in the way Julian looks at him like he thinks he’s some kind of hero. Then he reminds himself that believing those lies are the most dangerous thing of all and pulls away from his touch.

 Garak brushes a hand along his cheek, shaking his head as Julian continues to stare at him in a kind of adoration better reserved for Kukalaka. “Julian -“

 “At least let me compliment you, darling.” Julian cuts off all of his objections, leaning forward and pressing a finger against his lips. Julian pulls it back to press another light kiss to his mouth, soft and lazy and promising nothing. He’s learned what each of Julian’s different kisses mean, and this one is indulgent, only given when he thinks Garak deserves gifts he won’t give to himself. “You’ve been making a lot of headway on the capital in the eight months we’ve been here.”

 Garak’s smile grows a bit tighter as Julian’s words hit him. The capital, or well, the old capital. They had to move the new, temporary government once the city walls collapsed. The city was once beautiful, streets filled with libraries and museums, theater doors gilded with jewels. Now half of it’s gone, the splendor of the other half reused as scrap metal. The Cardassia he loved is truly gone, and Garak is part of the people burying its memory. Garak closes his eyes, feeling the prick of tears behind his gaze. “Sometimes I wonder what for. We’ll never regain what we lost, some of the best of us, so many children who could have grown up to be, all left buried in the ashes.”

 “Elim - “ Julian starts and then stops, taking both of his hands in his for a moment. Then he lets go and holds his palm flat so Elim can press his own against them. One is a platonic kiss, two a romantic one. Julian leans in so his forehead presses against spoon. That makes it a kiss of devotion, of something everlasting. Julian has been here long enough to know that and his breath catches a bit. “You’re rebuilding it for the all children who weren’t, who will grow up to be the best and worst and everything in between, who deserve whatever future we can all give them.”

 “Still an idealist.” Garak chides without any real heat behind it, sliding his fingers between Julian’s so he can squeeze his hands. For once, he decides to willingly let Julian’s federation optimism infect him, the sweetness and pop feeling less like root beer and more like a very sugary kanar. Garak thinks they might be on something of an upswing, after years of things falling apart every other day, either between them or for the Federation or Cardassia.

 Then the warm season comes.

**Author's Note:**

> And we're in the true home stretch of this series, with only 2 parts left to go! Thank you so much to everyone who has followed along with me and all the twists and turns the story has taken so far.
> 
> As always, comments and questions are loved!!


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